May the Skitter Be With You
by Hammurabi
Summary: How the Battle of Yavin might have gone with Worm's Skitter present. Assumes familiarity with both Star Wars and Worm.


This omake (or one-off, whatever you want to call it) was inspired by comments suggesting a crossover of Worm's Taylor Hebert into the Star Wars universe. With a wink, you might call this the "real" history of the Battle of Yavin, as opposed to the official history. (Not to be taken seriously, Star Wars fans.)

The story begins as the Death Star is on approach to the Rebel base at the end of Star Wars IV: A New Hope.

* * *

**May the Skitter be With You**

Grand Moff Tarkin tensely tapped his teeth with a thumbnail as the Death Star approached its target in the Yavin system, looping around a gas giant to line up its shot.

"Rebel base thirty seconds and closing."

Outside, the battle was quickly winding down as rebel fighters peeled off and headed for the temporary safety of the rebel moon. It was down to a single X-wing flying at reckless speed along one of the Death Star's trenches, closely followed by three TIE fighters.

_Use the Force, Luke. Trust your feelings._

Luke Skywalker shook his head, and made a fateful decision. He reached out and flipped a switch.

"Luke! You've turned off your targeting computer. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Luke called back to the rebel C&amp;C. "I'm all right." He closed his eyes and mentally stretched out, sensing the rapidly closing target ahead. Yes… there it is….

"Seriously? At your speed, you think you can force a couple of torpedoes to make a right-angle turn and drop down into that little exhaust port?"

"What?" Luke called out, his concentration broken. "Who said that?"

"Hi!" a voice called back. "It's Red-7, call sign Skitter. You're not the only person with this 'Force' as you people like to call it. You have no idea what's behind the Force, do you?"

"Not a good time for conversation!" Luke screamed into his mic as multiple shots flashed past, barely missing. No, not missing! His R2 unit was hit.

"Allow me to demonstrate," Skitter called. She reached out to the TIE fighters following behind Luke. There. She had planted a few interesting creatures in Darth Vader's armor a few days ago, and at least two had finally burrowed their way in. It was just dumb luck Darth Vader was piloting the lead fighter, but she planned take full advantage of the situation.

"I have you now…" Darth Vader chortled to himself as he locked onto the last X-wing in the trench.

"AAAAH!" Vader screamed as a sharp burning pain caused him to involuntarily jerk back on the control stick. His TIE fighter spun out of control, crashing into one of the fighters flying in formation with him. As he tumbled off into space, the other fighters crashed in the trench.

"And that takes care of the guys following you Luke," Skitter called. "By the way, your pirate buddy Hans and his shaggy friend are on their way back."

With disgust, Luke switched his targeting computer back on. How could he concentrate now?

"They had a change of heart?" he asked. If Luke could keep her talking, he could get a fix on her position and _shut her the hell up_… after destroying the Death Star. In the confusion, no one would question another missing pilot.

"Not exactly," Skitter replied, her voice registering no concern about the current situation. "I had to threaten the wookiee with a permanent blister-flea infestation. He, in turn, threatened to break every bone in Hans' body if they didn't turn back."

Luke was struck silent, dumbfounded by this revelation. The targeting computer beeped for attention, and he reflexively pulled the trigger. Twin torpedoes launched from his X-wing as he pulled back hard on the control stick, barely missing the defense tower positioned just past the auxiliary exhaust vent. The torpedoes curved, but didn't quite make the turn. One impacted inside the vent a few meters down, causing the second torpedo to detonate as well, tearing open multiple decks to space. Dozens of personnel were blown out before emergency bulkheads stopped the loss of atmosphere, but a few unfinished service corridors and the exhaust vent remained open to space.

Several kilometers away on the Death Star's overbridge, no one noticed the impact. The damage was too insignificant to be reported that far up the command chain.

"Rebel base is in range."

The Grand Moff smiled and turned to his second in command. "You may fire when ready."

"Idiot!" Luke shouted as he saw the results. "I could have destroyed it! This is your fault, Skitter! The rebellion is finished thanks to you! When I track you down, I'm going to blow you into tiny pieces!"

"No Luke," Skitter replied calmly. "Even with the Force to guide you, your torpedoes could never make that turn—they were bound to bang into something—but you have already helped immensely. Watch this!"

To Luke's astonishment, a continuous flow of something began to stream into the holes torn open by the torpedoes, as well as zooming down the exhaust vent. He tried to get a reading. It appeared to be lots of small objects—tens of thousands of small things entering the Death Star.

"What the hell are those?" Luke asked, his initial anger gone.

"Mynocks," Skitter replied. "Dumb as Earth crabs, they're attracted to magnetic fields. They're bad enough on their own, but imagine _intelligently directed _mynocks! Come on! Let's get the hell out of here."

The Grand Moff's order was relayed to the superweapon control room.

"Commence primary ignition."

A low thrumming built up deep inside the Death Star as capacitors the size of Corellian corvettes began to discharge into massive particle accelerator tubes, which would ultimately combine into a single super beam weapon.

Klaxons began to sound throughout the control room. Frantic voices called out.

"Master alarm! We are losing field integrity in tubes three, eighteen, thirty-seven, fifty-one…!"

"Standby. Switch to secondaries."

"It's no good. We're losing backup systems too!"

"Get that under control!"

"Standby… standby…"

In a blinding flash, the Death Star was momentarily brighter than Yavin's own star. Raw-throated cheers transmitted over every channel as the surviving fighters lost communication discipline.

When it was possible to coherently communicate, Luke quietly said to Skitter, "I have to give you credit, you did good back there."

Skitter had finally come out of hiding—if she had been, in fact, hiding, and not using some sort of mind trick—and their X-wings flew side by side back to Yavin.

"Oh, don't give me credit," Skitter replied. "I insist."

"Really?" Luke asked, surprised as he turned to look at the X-wing beside him. He could vaguely make out a shape through the window, but that was all.

"Really. I prefer to work in the background. It draws less attention that way."

"Sure I can't bug you to change your mind? You were the real hero, or heroine, today."

"Oh Luke," Skitter said with amusement. "If I want something, you can be sure I'll bug _you_. See ya later."

Luke's final shock came when Skitter's cockpit canopy opened without warning and a mass of insects blew out in a puff of expanding gas. There was nothing he could do but watch as Skitter's X-wing began a slow tumble. His status board showed it was fully shut down, its engines rapidly cooling.

A day later, after the celebrations were over, a tug was sent to salvage the derelict X-wing. No body was ever found in or around the fighter.


End file.
